Surf-zest in her face she pounded in the first stake, for what was meant to be; a tall round hut of imported spices she would offer to the public at the sea. Her sacks and bags with foreign tags, laid piled upon the dampening sand, while her wild hair blowing in the wind, escaped from its multi- colored band.
Passerbys stopped to criticize, to speculate about her choice of place. They shook their heads, predicting her eventual failure and disgrace. “Why in the world my dear,” they said, “would you set up shop exactly here? The waves will take it down, the salty breeze will make your spices disappear.”
Her olive skin did glisten, her strong tan arms arranging, peppered by the briny spray. She chose to remain silent, and only her large black eyes spoke up, sparkling like midday. So soon her makeshift hut was done, and jars of spices stood lined up in casual rows, and the barefoot curious stopped to look, squishing the soft wet sand between their toes.
The names were clearly written on the labels, although no prices could be seen; ground nutmeg, turmeric, cumin, za’atar, and a tall bottle of rose water in between, tart and tangy karkadey, sumac and cardamom, cinnamon sticks in honey to suck upon, whole cloves and ginger root, ground cayenne pepper, curry and red and yellow saffron.
She opened up a jar and scooped a spoonful, holding it out in front of her as if to tease the wind, and the little grains began to fly, forming a cloud that colored her hair and face as it blew in. Then she opened others, one after another, until her hair and skin were like an ongoing painting, that’s when the crowd began to realize, she was not selling spices after all, but instead was entertaining.
The breeze of salty water mixed with cardamom and cinnamon was an aromatic rinse upon her hair, with full rose-watered lips, she sucked those honey sticks and fluttered dancing hands into the air. The onlookers grew until they formed a throng now mesmerized, while she perfumed herself in dance, and there was not one left upon that sunset beach, who was not spiced just right, into her charm-like trance.
Her finale was the offering of the fine- ground residue, flinging it generously upon those gathered there, the pungent reds and greens and yellows mixed with salty briny gusts, now settled in their hair. Then pressing cloves into the eager outstretched hands, ginger roots, red petals of dried karkadey, she thought, “The waves can have my make-shift stage, as I am all finished for today.”
Colored and stained artistically, abstractly painted by the brush of surf and breeze, she ambled gracefully down the beach, smelling so exotically like the Middle East. Twirling her two bags as if they were scarves, she broke into her own fan-dance ballet, until her figure finally disappeared into the coastline, for all of those who watched her walk away.
Karima Hoisan Oct. 10, 2012
LINC Island Renacer SL
When I arrived upon the shore of my salvation..it was a full moon night and I landed by the sea
Slip Away For Second Life
When I arrived upon the shore of my salvation,
it was a full moon night and I landed by the sea. There was a dolphin jumping and I could hear the waves as they crashed over me. Is there a better metaphor for this our Second Life, than a looking glass or a rabbit hole that let us pass, into a world we never could imagine, into a million possibilities?
Thousands of sims were fireflies of beckoning doors, and there we stood, our key in hand, filled with awe and throbbing curiosity,
we entered them in hordes.
So now at almost five, I remember
like a remnant from a caravan or wagon train,
the trials and errors and the pain…
but here I am to say that I survived. Some times I find it hard to think how very long I’ve been inside and nostalgia with a conscience piques me more each day, until I wonder if it’s wrong to stay. I’m still here today, but now I feel the magic start to slip away.
There was a time I never saw the borders of my screen. I was so deep inside, I lived here, and when I could,
I made my room surroundings disappear. I loved and lost and that first time I cried I said, “Oh my” this is not a game!” I wondered why they called it such,
then felt I should be more careful with those I touched. Yet my innocence kept showing, as deeper I went in,
for all that I was seeing, was becoming part of me,
while I was forming the pieces of creation that others now could see…
like a miracle, like a prepschool for the afterlife, relating disembodied.
We were all demi god- creators, artists painting dreams.
Some were here to make a living, some pursued their fame,
and many turned into demi pawns for those who did not build a life,
but only came to play in -game.
I found myself with a Blues Club in New Toulouse 1920’s New Orleans. I was still new enough to find each night had a rainbow lining
that titillated, rustling like my petticoats. It moved me to feeling and to sensuality,
that’s when I felt it all became so much more real. I could smell the floorboards, the dockside freighter’s rusty hulls,
and Tom Waits sang over the stream, while I danced with lovers,
those tangos, sexy number 4 cheek to cheek, and slow dance number 3.
I am so thankful for all of it, even the bad left some good lessons, and I grew, even the teenager who I thought was 33, was still the best builder that I ever knew, or the artist who stayed partnered less than a week with me, but did leave a goodbye- gift, a pair of shiny robots standing by the creek. Everything and everyone in the end, somehow landed happily ever-afterly.
Its all been good for me… the loss of innocence, the coming of my virtual age,
the sharing, collaborating and true caring.
There still are some songs, that can take my breath away,
even though my heart no longer speeds,
and I seldom lose my head or abandon all caution to an untried lover. I have more shoes than Imelda Marcos, more houses and castles than a queen. There are times I feel I have seen it all and danced every dance,
and had every kind of variation of romance.
Am I a jaded oldie who only lives in her memories of how it used to be? Have I seen a full moon every night of my virtual life,
until it no longer means the same to me? I remember when they laid the tracks down on the West Atoll, that was just a year ago but we lagged and laughed in hopeful celebration.
Now the tracks sometimes lead nowhere, and the railroad line is looking bare, I watch the sims and stores, dance bars and places I adored,
closing down around me. People who I thought they really cared, vanish into smoke and are no longer there.
I spend too much time in solitude, lazy easy listening,
and readings of my poetryare far and few between.
I’m still here today, but now I feel the magic start to slip away.
Karima Hoisan Sept. 30,2012 LINC Island Misty Shores SL
* Footnote the expression “prep-school for the afterlife” was coined by my SL friend Knor Lane. I always give him credit because….well it’s such a great description:)
I lost my way with words when I lost you. I had this way with them, I was the gentle trainer, and words were pigeons, squabbling, until I coaxed them to their place. And even if I let them go, a thousand miles from where you lived, I know…because I know… you felt their wings aflutter, trying to get back home upon your chest, and there they stayed a while, before they laid upon my sheet to rest. The odd thing was, you did not speak the language that they carried deep inside, nor could you decipher tomes of books, that were written just for you. You only smiled because you felt them coo.
When I worked in the Circo de Verbose, I used to line them up, those wild words,
like rearing elephants adorned in plumed helmets, a Byzantine Army of lines,
in perfect rhythm, marching to endless time. Majestic, regal, powerful, they could crush those underneath, but when I felt them crushing me,
I raised my arms and they went limp and willing, until I took control once more, that they might continue to return.
I needed no whip, no self imposed “write or else.” It came so easily for me. The day you cracked open wide my heart, and out they spilled upon the floor, of course you were not there to see… Your absence, and the hope you would return, was really what made the mystery, permitting them to turn back into poetry.
But now you’ve traveled further than my words can ever reach, you have gone beyond the need for words, and I have lost the touch. Because there is no longer any hope of seeing you, I let my animals out, now they all roam free. They no longer work for me. They no longer parade and line up prettily, nor do they fly and soar to raw emotion that used to be my poetry. But words become afraid to leave, and huddle in the shadows if they stay too long in cages, and you open up their door. And I, who once thought I had a way with them, now find, I have a way with them no more.
“Large frame windows staring out at the sea, a ballroom restaurant pre-rush and scurry. Leaned on elbows in white linen caress her smoky accent winds ’round her dress….”
Stabbed In The Ego
(for that poet)
Am I really not as good, not as inspiring nor mysterious not even deserving of a couplet, or a quatrain in fixed rhyme? To be a muse, there must be some fireworks and wine, to be remembered, pined and worshiped in the dark, there must be a play to play in, with some memorable lines.
So it wasn’t my smoky voice, my table-clothed restaurant by the sea, nor was it your nervous passion when you approached our intersection. My eyes stung in lemon tears, to realize the tidal wave was not for you and I and no debris of love’s alchemy, nor spuming over- flow contained my name I collapsed, a big balloon who met her thorn, a hope now pricked to die.
Ahh, The silly luxury of wishing to be someone’s special one, one who moves a bard to song, a poet to tears, to rhyme or drink Don’t we all wish to engrave ourselves deeply inside a wandering heart to be a GPS that tracks their thoughts and poetry back to go, and then we realize we’re not the starting line? Oh…stabbed in the ego!
Karima Hoisan LINC Island SL Sept.19, 2012
* How embarrassing! I thought that little excerpt of a poem in the beginning was written for me…then I found out it wasn’t… (cringes but I can laugh about it now) Well it did move my muse to write a few verses…:) and No, not saying who wrote it…I’m just keeping that part to myself.
“We can be the passenger wondering where it all will lead…”
Take Charge
We can be the passenger wondering where it all will lead, or take the wheel and drive the engine down the laid out tracks. The tracks we know exist, but where they’ll take us, is what we cannot see, and all that we might encounter on our way, is at best, a theory or a fantasy.
At times we shudder, for the unknown is like a cold wind that blows us forward, around a bend there could be danger, and we find it hard to trust the one in charge. So we sit, the helpless passenger of our daily journey, while the years go flashing by, and if we don’t wind up where we think we should, we face our palms to heaven asking, “Why?”
The Driver is not alone when he or she is driving, for someone else surely laid those tracks, and logic tells us, that we can see more plans than randomness, when we look outside our windows. Even with our wheels riding down the rails, we are free to stop and stay along the way, we have choices, who we pick up and let ride inside, and learn lessons when they choose not to stay.
Taking charge means taking risks, shouldering the lion’s share of all responsibility, but if we don’t, we are doomed to wonder, if we had grabbed the wheel, how it might have been? We could even be a passenger in someone else’s train car, that is not a contradiction, that is Life, but to drive our own, brings its sweet reward; for even if we get it wrong, we still can make it right.
Karima Hoisan Sept 15, 2012
Historic Lapara Towne (along the SLRR at Lapara)
* Footnote: First, I want to give a big thank you to my friend f.d. who took this great photo.
I discovered this little imaginative, very entertaining town along the railroad tracks. The landmark says and I quote,
” The ORIGINAL mainland city with the streetcar tram train line. Stroll the old fashioned streets or take the train down 4 levels to Lake Lapara’s Protected Clownfish Estaurary and habitat.”
It seems to be the combined creation of two very talented avatars, I have yet to meet, Ponce de Clownfish (israel schnute) and Yume Rizel (yettie.glom) I have been here several times and always find something new, and some unique little things to buy too. If you like exploring on the Mainland, this is a fun and a well done attraction. Here is your locomotive coming down the tracks Link to Historic Lapara Towne
It seems to me it has been way too long since I sent out an invitation to a poetry reading, and actually it has been four months since I performed in Second Life. Those of you who follow my blog, know what was my mission that kept me away, and when I returned I was informed that my beautiful Arabic salon, like all the events on The Costa Rican Dream Seeker Estate had been terminated. Well…I ran right out and bought a new Arabic Salon, and placed it over my sim LINC Island, but before I could even get it together to send out invitations, and plan a cozy reading over my own land, Mariella who was the Events Planner at Costa Rica Sims, wrote to me and invited me to come to The Irish Estates where she had moved to, and was now planning their events. I jumped at the chance, because, one I really like working with Mariella, and two, it is always exciting to reach perhaps a new audience, no offense to my loyal ‘old audience ‘please, you know how very important you are to me.
A beautiful welcoming garden gazebo is my new venue
So, I cordially and warmly invite you to my reading this coming Thursday, September 13th 1-2mpmslt. I admit I am somewhat nervous, as I am a little out of my rhythm, but at the same time, very excited to be doing my first reading, at such a beautiful, elegant, and I hear, friendly and welcoming Estate. I have some new poems to share and over half of them are to my own musical compositions. I have chosen what I feel is an eclectic mix of moods and feelings, all accompanied by images played behind me, and hope they delight you for this hour.
Hope to see you all there….
My thank you’s go to Asha Rosie Tylman for her poster for this event, and of course I want to thank the CEOand Estate Owner IrishGent, for inviting me to perform, and I extend my personal hope that he will be able to attend my first, but hopefully, not my last reading, on his successful and thriving Estate (90+sims!)
I hope to see you all there and here is your limo to drop you off at the entrance of this very beautiful garden gazebo. Come have a bit of tea and some poetry (and a little music too)…with me. Click below to grab your…. Your Irish Limo
It is:)
I won’t even make excuses… I don’t feel much like creating, as I just feel like enjoying what SL has to offer…in the form of escapism and my favorite “escape artist” is also my film partner who also is enjoying her own brand of lazy streak:) Natascha and I have been *coughs eheem “brainstorming” for our next project together in some highly unlikely places.
Letting the blood rush to our heads..
As I said to Nat after our success in the UWA V Challenge, “Well… we started almost at the top, which means it’s probably all downhill from here on in” Sort of kidding… but not really.
I let her drag me to “Die Rush Hour” so I could kick out in my full skirt and look sort of out- of- it compared to the other patrons… Laziness prevented me from buying something in mesh although I did remember to wear a mesh viewer that day, as Nat is “mesh queen” and I am tired of rendering her in my photos entrapped in rectangles and fat spheres and usually partially invisible. Here is a bit of Nat’s take on it…I arrived in the middle. Rush is a Great DJ!!
So… when I heard that Nat just bought a luxury sailboat, I prescribed myself another afternoon off from thinking or doing anything useful, and just rolling on the high Blake Seas, the salt-water wind in my curls..(really this boat sails like the real thing) and was just what the doctor ordered to escape from anything like “work” or being “artistic…or god forbid… “poetic”
The flap of the sails and the wooosh of a motorless glide…Heaven!!
Of course I was not dressed for the occasion once again, I looked like Nat took pity on me and picked me off a bus stop bench and sat me on a yacht cushion but oh well…I had rubber sole shoes on at least…
Nat WAS dressed to sail in a pair of mini-cutoffs….eheem!
So, another day of doing something useful to show was avoided…and we relaxed and sailed off into the sunset…
I am pretty easy to kidnap for the day this week..will accept most offers
I do want to end this post on a great video that Nat made about one of her latest acquisitions..I’m going to tell on her right here in my blog, no mincing of words. She is a “total transport junkie” She loves things that move, on air, or land or sea, and she buys them and sometimes makes really beautiful films about them. I found this one she did recently, to be a joy to watch and admire...(plus we get to hear the Russian National Anthem)and I share it with you while I lazily yawn and sit way back and watch it again with you:)
That’s my film partner in action!!
Now maybe we will knuckle down this week and finish what we started…or maybe just enjoy the luxury to be lazy a bit longer….because sometimes “It’s ok to be lazy”
“pale blue under a desert moon glows those moving beasts of burden…”
Desert Loon was born from my nostalgia for the desert. I coaxed my muse out of inertia this week (I have been under the weather) by first writing a musical piece that made me see the images to write the poem. This happens to me sometimes, where I need the music first to see clearly the imagery. I invite you to click on the .mp3 link here to listen to it with my recitation. I will add the words to the poem in a comment not on the post, because I do encourage you to listen to it first, before you read it. Close your eyes, and take a moonlight caravan ride, where strange sounds assault your imagination. Please click below to hear it and Enjoy!! Desert Loon.mp3 by Karima Hoisan
Well to say that Natascha and I were nervous was a total understatement today, as I sat crossing and uncrossing my legs, and Nat fidgeted in some carefully camouflaged dance moves. We were more than a full hour early for this prestigious and long awaited awards ceremony, and each minute we were getting more nervous. The setting was beautiful and ample cushions were starting to be filled in with the audience who came in a steady stream the last half hour. This was the most highly anticipated Art and Machinima Festival you could find on any grid, nothing else could even compare.
International… was such a part of the flavor and the magic (photo by Nat)
We were treated to a wonderful show of light, dance and precision by The ChangHigh Trinity Sisters to begin … Just beautiful!
Spectacular! (photo by Nat)
Our nerves were increasing with each particle burst..I will speak for Natascha here too as we were in back and forth IM’s and all of them said, “I am sooooo nervous”
A Grand Finale and then on to the prizes. (photo by Nat)
For a complete list of all the awards given I will refer you to the excellent re-accounting on the official UWA blog which you can find here:UWA blog post on the awards My little post today is just to share with you, my readers, a personal slice of the feelings emotions and surprises lived at this anticipated ceremony.
Posters of the films were also awarded prizes, and I want to point out that our film’s poster took a third place, designed by the artist Huntress Catteneo who took home 8000L$. I also want to congratulate my friend RAG Randt who took home 10000L$ for 2nd place with his great design of the Poster for the film “Running with Scissors” and of course to the winner of this poster competition, violette Naidoo (L$12,000) for the poster of the film: “The Last Syllable Of Recorded Time” Here they are below:
Congrats To The Three Winners (photo by Nat)
Audience participation was also rewarded with the lists that came closest to final judging. Congratulations to the winners of that, Samara Kasshiki, Chic Aeon, and Charles Hera.
OPEN THIS END AWARDS OF EXCELLENCE also gave out prizes to the competitors, who were chosen by their independent team of judges. I personally did not know about this part, so was happily surprised to see that our film,”Seek Wisdom” was included in a very illustrious group of four machinimas as winners in the category of OPEN THIS END CINEMAPOP AWARD OF EXCELLENCE IN FILM 2012. It was like a delicious taste of the succulent pie of recognition being served in this banquet of awards. Congratulations to our fellow winners, Hypatia Pickens, for “Still Watching,” pallina60 Loon for “Colours” and Spiral Silverstar, “Seeking Wisdom in The Stars”
Now..on to the main event…(photo by Nat)
Natascha and I were sitting in the front row, wringing the moisture out of our palms… our combined heart beats sounded like a syncopated House Dance rhythm. The adrenaline was making us hyperventilate..you know, all the symptoms of pre-panic panic attack.
The Moment of Truth begins (photo by Nat)
I will be very honest here, Nat and I believed we had a good film, we believed it when we mutually decided it was ready to be sent out into the world (as Nat put it) but knowing the competition, the level of artistic excellence that was being represented in the 51 entries, we considered it lucky and very honorable if we could place in any one of the ten places or the special prize. We were hopeful, but not totally convinced and so the nerves ruled, and we each sat silent in our own prayers. As I said I won’t list all the winners, and many joint winners of the night, I will just skip up ahead a bit to when JayJay Zifanwe, principal organizer and our host, had gotten to the Fourth Prize and we were still holding our breath, as we had yet to win. When we heard there was a four-way tie for Third Place we just went blue in the face, putting our breath holding into 4-Wheel Drive, and thinking, “Well this is it..it’s now or never.” This was our first time as entrants to this International Festival of 3d Art and film and I don’t know if others more experienced went through what we were going through, but I was almost ill by that point from the anticipation, and the unknown answer, to our thoughts,”Will they call our name?” I mean what a photo finish of greats he was calling out, Tikaf Viper for “Run Ram,” (who was my personal favorite to win First Place) Hypatia Pickens for “The Four Gods of Folly, Arrow Inglewood for “?” and and…you could have dropped a meteorite between us and we would not have noticed, we were hanging on this last unknown name,
“and… pallina60 Loon for “Colours” At that second I felt I had fallen down an elevator shaft and all my hopes for taking home a prize from the UWA V were laying dashed on the bottom. I sent off an IM to Nat, “Well it looks like we bombed out” and she answered, “Yeah”
“Well that’s it Nat, we bombed out”
So….please believe me, we were not sitting in our seats waiting to be called for the next prize, 2ND PRIZE IN THE OVERALL!!. I think when JayJay called out our film “Seek Wisdom” I thought it was any one of the others with the same name, but when I heard our names attached, I think I let out an OMG in chat and seriously felt light-headed and giddy and a little crazy.
That’s the slice of pie we took home, a really big piece too, that can be shared easily with all our friends supporters and everyone who believed in our little film. Oh, and we received 120,000L$ too… so, drinks are on us:) The grand First Prize was well-awarded to Tutsy Navarathna for ‘The Last Syllable of Recorded Time’ Congratulations Tutsy on your 3rd winning year in a row (2010 – 2011 – 2012)
I will repeat the words I said on The UWA blog, “So many people to thank, beginning with the organizers and the judges for this year’s UWA V Machinima Challenge. For me personally, this feels like a fairy tale, but looking back, I see many people to thank. I would like to first gratefully acknowledge the fate that brought me to SL, and all the people along the way who have encouraged me, first as a performing poet, and then a composer, and then finally a machinimatographer. My friends here, my partner, and many in RL too, who have encouraged me to try new things, and not be afraid to take chances. The final breeze blew in an incredible talent, who harmonized so well with me in the creative aspect. I am speaking of Natascha Randt, who made it possible to begin our Costa Rica-Germany connection and seek wisdom together. I thank you all, and am truly honored to receive this prize. I also want to include the judges of the Open This End Awards of Excellence, who voted for our film as one of the winners of the Open This End Awards of Excellence In Film 2012. My most sincere thanks for your consideration and your prize. Against all odds…I now put the 2nd Place Winner of the MachinimUWA 2012 for your enjoyment,in case anyone has yet to see it, and let out a great big and joyous, WOOOOOOOOOT!!!
I am proud to present our latest machinima effort, a new inspired collaboration with my friend and respected machinima artist, Natascha Randt. I know this was a hard poem for some to like when it was just a poem, as it concerns the low dip in the process of accepting the loss of a loved one. There are other, maybe better ways to feel while learning to accept that we will never see someone again, but I was recently reminded, that the process of grief is many-phased, and each one, while grieving, will do it, go through it, and survive it, in their own way. If you follow my poetry and this blog, you will see many poems, videos, and series inspired by one single muse. Her name was Umahmad and she was not virtual but very real.Yet in some sense she became a virtual muse, a haunting memory that helped me tap into a well of poetry, feelings and scenes, that flowed out of my pen for her since 2002. I have written hundreds of poems for her, and just recently was with her when she passed away. See post “My Gliding Beauty 1971-2012”
I showed Nat the recording just to share it, no other intentions in mind, and I said to her (using her quote always about being “lazy”)
“If I weren’t so lazy I would make a machinima out of this”
She said, “Tell me what you imagine it would be like?” and before we knew it, we were putting together an abstract city on one of my worlds on Kitely – Virtual Worlds on Demand. I laughed today thinking how two, self admitting non-builders could pull that off, but one of the flairs and the talents that Nat has, is a fabulous camera eye, and a wizard’s magic for editing and fx’s, so… I think even our strange city, my odd birds somehow fit right into the mood of the poem. We tried to capture in a few minutes with music, poetry and visuals the feelings of despair and nostalgia all mixed up, that can pull one down into a temporary Tar Pit of despair and inertia.
I hope you allow yourselves to be dragged down ( if only for a few minutes) in our “Tar Pit Never” mood. We promise… that our next project together, will be a happy, silly and light-hearted supermarket musical…or something on that order…maybe:)
Oh and a recommendation to play it in HD (720p) and full screen, for a brighter view of the dark.
Digital Rabbit Hole 